A/N: HEY EVERYBODY! I know, so many fics going on...ya'll prolly hate me by now... But I FINALLY watched Pretty Woman, and I couldn't resist the idea of Logan in thigh high boots and booty shorts. So this fic spawned. I'm having too much fun with this... I hope ya'll like it!
EDIT: Edited this chapter, realized there were some mistakes. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. :'(
Logan strode down the street, feeling quite pleased with himself. He just got about a hundred bucks for a blow job. Pretty fine night, if he didn't say so himself. At this rate, he'd have enough to pay for his apartment by midnight.
Clad in his favorite short shorts and thigh high boots, Logan felt like the king of the street. He basically was, whenever he worked, most hookers didn't stand a chance. Hollywood Boulevard was his kingdom, and he, a very worthy knight.
He could never truly say king. Since his apartment was shabby and he needed James to help pay for it, and living with James in a one bedroom/one bath apartment never really worked out too well.
Nonetheless, he was the most popular prostitute on the street. And since he worked for himself, unlike James, he made all the money. Not just a very small percentage. (Not to mention, he was damn good at his job, so extremely high markups were always put into place for those who could afford it.)
But, this was temporary. While his job was fruitful, the acts weren't. He was an expert at his craft, but that doesn't mean he honestly enjoyed it. Nah, he was saving up for bigger things.
"Logie, whatcha got, babe?" James strolled up to Logan with a swing in his hips. While Logan tended to hit up the more femme look, James liked to be all fabulous male. His sinfully tight-assed jeans hugged his…everywhere perfectly, his tight graphic tee was plastered (due to sweat from heat and from more) to his washboard abs and molded pecks, glitter adorned his flawless face and arms. He was a walking wet dream. Too bad Logan was straight, or else he'd totally hit that up.
"A hundred bucks jus' fer a blow." Logan smirked; he and James had a game: whoever made the least money bought smoothies at the end of the night. Logan had the tendency to win.
This time, James smirked back, "A hundred-fifty for a blow."
"Dude!" Logan grinned; James made him so proud sometimes.
"What can I say? I'm learning from the best." At first, the tall brunette had resented Logan for his skills, for James had been at this longer than Logan. But soon enough, he couldn't resist the smaller brunette's charm, and now they exchanged talents frequently, making them both better at the temporary occupation.
As hours drag on, in Logan's opinion, they already had to shag off three other whore's from their corner, each complaining that Logan was newer than them. But James had seniority over them and told 'em to get lost, they did.
Beyond their first combined pot of two-fifty, they had nothing. Things were slow for a Saturday. Then again, they turned down many because of the drugs that the possible clients had/were using/wanted to pay them with. James made Logan promise there'd be no drugs as long as they lived together, Logan was fine and dandy with that.
A group of girls passed the two and grinned at James, who smiled charmingly back, but blew them off. "Dude, I don't know how you like doing girls. I haveta imagine Richard Gere to be able to do it." He made a 'blech' face.
"I don't know how you like doing guys! The only reason I do more guys is because they have more money. Not to mention, you're the bigger hit with the girls. Next to you I have no chance." Logan sighed. "I imagine Julia Roberts…"
"Logan. Gross. And dress like a dude and you might." James laughed, "I'd prefer the guys. Yeah, more money and more fun. But most guys paying don't want someone bigger than they are." James winked, showing the double meaning in his words.
"Yeah, we know Jamie, yer hung like a moose."
"And if you'd let me do ya, I'd show ya how awesome it is."
"I'm okay. I take it up the ass enough."
A Ferrari sped up, gears grinding and car lurching. Logan just raised an eyebrow. Not that he didn't like cars (actually, some practically made him jizz his pants), he just hated what that car represented in the real world. A stuck up, lonely rich guy looking for a fuck because he's "so miserable". Yeah, well try being a prostitute and barely making enough money to cover bills, rent, clinic visits, and condoms.
James, on the other hand, was all over that. He flashed that signature dashing smile, and turned on the charm.
The tinted window rolled down, revealing a young businessman in an expensive suit. He pointed at Logan and made a "come closer" gesture with his hand. James beamed.
"Oh, Logie, yer gonna have fun with this one. Remember, don't take less than $400, and schmooze it up. Maybe you'll get more. I'll buy the smoothies tomorrow." The tall brunette winked and fluffed Logan's ridiculous red wig, a red similar to Julia Robert's hair, and James sauntered off. Logan was speechless and annoyed, but it was a job. And a high paying one.
"Hello there, could one of you tell me how to get to Beverly Hills?" The handsome blonde man flashed a friendly-fake smile, and Logan was a little speechless. He'd seen countless amounts of men, and this one was one of the most attractive, seconded only to James.
Logan remembered to quirk his own signature grin, one that bordered on fabulous without all the shiny patent leather goopy shit he had on his lips. "Sure, honey, its—" Logan about shit at what he saw.
Er, who he saw. There was this one specific pimp giving him trouble, a guy who was in competition with James' pimp, and he was out to get Logan. If he couldn't have him, he said he'd make sure that Logan would never whore again. That was earlier today when he started his shift. Now he had three HUGE guys with him.
"Okay, how 'bout I show you personally, darlin'?" Logan jumped into the passenger seat, motioning for the man to drive.
"Um, alright then." The businessman gave Logan an incredulous look and proceeded driving. If one could call it that. The dude couldn't drive stick.